


Model Behaviour

by MizJoely



Series: Flash Fic Fest [50]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 21:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18677527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizJoely/pseuds/MizJoely
Summary: Prompt by sherlollyandspoilers on tumblr: "Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper are rising stars in their modeling agency. While Sherlock's photo shoots are among the highest rated, he is known to be a pain in the ass to work with. Despite his irritating personality, Sherlock happens to exude power and is amazing to photograph. Since starting at the agency Molly has quickly become every photographer's new favorite model to shoot as she is practically a ray of sunshine in personality and looks. Now, Sherlock has been paired with Molly and he is completely out of his element, his powerful facade crumbling."





	Model Behaviour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [katemiller](https://archiveofourown.org/users/katemiller/gifts).



[Link to the original post](https://mizjoely.tumblr.com/post/184583030022/may-2019-monthly-prompt)

Sherlock stared at the photo of the woman he'd been paired with for the runway show. "A petite model?" he said incredulously. "Have you gone completely mental?"

John Watson was used to Sherlock's tantrums and replied calmly, "It's a show about contrasts. Short and tall. Dark and light. Mean and nice," he added in an undertone, but of course his git of a client - and friend whenever the two of them were forced to admit it - heard him.

"Sorry John," Sherlock sneered. "I draw the line at petite  _agents_. Not models."

John bristled at this reference to his height - one of the few ways Sherlock could still break his professional facade when at the Hudson Agency - but tried, very hard, not to let it bother him. "Not your call, sorry. You want this show, you work with the model you're given. And you've been given–"

"Molly Hooper, everybody's ray of sunshine," Sherlock interrupted with a glare. " _Fine_. If that's the way it has to be, then fine. But I don't want to hear about how much I outshone her on the runway, afterwards." He smirked.

"We'll just have to see who outshines who," came a quiet, feminine voice from the doorway.

Sherlock and John both looked over in surprise, to find the petite model of whom they'd been speaking (definitely  _not_ bickering) leaning against the doorframe. She was wearing a white knit top decorated with rows and rows of tiny black bows, a pencil skirt that flattered her slight frame quite nicely, and a pair of black Louboutin Sky High pumps that added a good six inches to her height - thus bringing her approximately up to Sherlock's cheekbones rather than his shoulders.

For once Sherlock found himself with nothing to say. He'd seen Molly in passing, on her way to and from other shoots, quietly discussing things with her manager and agent and other models - in fact, now that he thought back, he'd never seen her alone. Not once. No, she was always surrounded by people, and those people always seemed…happy?

He frowned. Yes, happy was the right word. Even now, John was smiling at her as he beckoned her to join them and Sherlock could feel his own lips trying to twitch their way out of their current (definitely  _not_ petulant) frown as she did so.

"Well, Mr. Holmes?" She came to a stop only a few feet away from him, chin raised defiantly, the long sweep of her chestnut hair still swaying from her quick, determined pace. "Shall we place a little wager on the show, hmm?"

"Dinner," he blurted out, eliciting a puzzled look from Molly and a rather choked sounding noise from John.

He ignored John and focused on Molly. "Dinner," he repeated, more confidently this time, noting with satisfaction the way her pupils dilated as he gave her his best smoulder as he held her gaze. "The winner takes the loser to dinner."

"And who, um, decides on the winner?" she asked, biting at her lower lip in a failed attempt to stop a shy smile from blossoming.

Sherlock waved a hand. "The crowd. The press. The other models and backstage people. You can always tell how well you've done by their reactions, can't you?"

She nodded, the grin finally breaking free even as he allowed himself to wonder how it would feel if she were nibbling on  _his_ lip.  _Focus Holmes!_  he mentally snapped.  _You're only taking a professional interest in this woman, remember? She's challenged you - and you're damn well going to_ win  _that challenge._

Then again, he reconsidered as Molly took his proffered hand in hers in a strong, confident handshake that well matched her strong, confident smile, perhaps it didn't really matter who won in the end.

Either way, he deduced that their dinner was going to be absolutely  _brilliant_.

 


End file.
